


Crowning Glory

by CaseyStar



Series: bbcmerlinfest 2014 [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bottom Merlin, Crown, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 06:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1540769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyStar/pseuds/CaseyStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having been seperated for much of the day whilst happy bachelorette number 2342 is being thrown at Arthur by her uncle, and having suffered through a bit of a dryspell when it comes to time together, Arthur returns to his chambers one night to find Merlin in his crown.</p><p>Arthur never expected the sight to affect him so much</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crowning Glory

**Author's Note:**

> This is predominantly canon, with a slight au bent as Arthur is not, nor has he ever been, in a relationship with Gwen.  
> Over on tumblr [ kcsplace](http://kcsplace.tumblr.com), so come say hello here if you want.

The feel of Merlin tight and hot around him, the way those slim fingers trailed restlessly over Arthur’s chest, nails rasping over hard nipples, tracing ridges of heavy muscles, petting the golden hairs that covered Arthur’s chest had to be illegal in some way.

But it was the crown, _Arthur’s_ crown atop Merlin’s head, that glistened gold in the light streaming through the windows as his lover rocked above him that was surely treasonous. Arthur couldn’t quite place why, when Merlin’s head dropped back, he once again found himself reaching up to stop the crown from sliding off that untamed mop of dark hair, pressing it down more firmly on Merlin’s head, but he knew it was the same desire that had had him asking his lover to keep it on. Taking the opportunity to lace a hand around the back of his neck, Arthur drew Merlin down for a kiss.

“Fuck me,” Merlin mumbled against his lips, tongue lapping out to taste the salt of sweat beaded in the slight dip beneath Arthur’s lush lower lip.

“As you wish, my Lord.”

They’d been apart all day, Arthur having spent his time with a visiting Lord and his young, and terribly conceited, niece. The attempts of the Lord to match-make had gone from tolerable, to the old man actually throwing the girl onto Arthur’s lap and though his servant had smiled at the Lord’s actions, his eyes were sad, wounded at the all too clear reminder that Arthur had a duty to the kingdom, to take a wife and produce an heir. Not wanting to pain his lover further, Arthur had sent Merlin away. 

When finally Arthur had returned to his rooms, he found Merlin had been cleaning, though the only evidence of that that Arthur could surmise was that his chambers appeared ransacked since breakfast and there was a polishing cloth on the table with the scent of beeswax thick in the air. The servant in question was standing by a window, gaze seemingly transfixed outside the castle walls, but it wasn’t the tempest outside that had caught his attention, it was his own reflection as he adjusted the crown that rested on his brow, his normally comical ears stopping the too-large circlet from slipping over his eyes.

Amusement changed to pure arousal as Merlin turned towards him. His mind struggled to understand what Merlin had been thinking of to dare to wear his crown, but his body just didn’t care.

“Merlin?” Arthur queried, shutting the heavy door, shutting the rest of the world out and unfastening his cape, letting it fall to the floor as he closed the distance between them. 

Clearly Merlin had not shirked all his duties; the crown shone like the sun from its perch on hair black as a raven’s wing as he eyed his lover warily, his fear at being caught evident, though as usual he stood his ground, a defiant smirk twitching at his lips.

“Merlin,” Arthur admonished, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down on the word that threatened to spill forth as nothing more than an unmanly croak, swallowing them back down. Instead he did as he always did.

“Delusions of grandeur, hmmm? I could have your head for such impudence.”

“I wanted to see if it was the crown that had shoved the rod up your ass or if it was just responsible for your ego.”

Arthur cocked one eyebrow, a huff of disbelief displaying his disapproving incredulity.

“You will never learn that you cannot speak to me like that, will you?”

“I’m in the crown now,” Merlin said, eyes wide in shock at his own daring, as if he’d only now remembered what he had done, the importance of what adorned his head.

Merlin reached up to remove the crown, apology ready on his lips, only to have his hand captured within Arthur’s grasp, his fingers tight as a vice but Merlin detected a tremor in the King’s hold, as though he stood afraid of what he was next to say.

“It stays on,” Arthur commanded, voice little more than a whisper, feeling his cheeks blaze, but he never dropped eye contact, watching surprise flare into lust in Merlin’s eyes, the other man’s gaze heavy-lidded as a slight smirk quirked his lips.

Merlin stepped into his lover’s space, breathing deep of the scent he knew as home; sweat, metal and a hint of sandalwood that he knew he’d taste on his tongue if he kissed along Arthur’s exposed collarbone, tongue lapping into the hollow at the base of Arthur’s neck.

“Are you to be my subject?”

Merlin’s low voice was pure sex, languorous, seeming to twine around Arthur’s cock, heat pooling in his groin as his cock lengthened, bulging against the laces of his trousers Arthur used his hold on Merlin’s arm to draw him closer, close enough to touch and taste and kiss.

“If you wish it,” Arthur bowed his head a little, clasped his free hand into a fist over his heart, smiling as he pledged fealty to his new king, before shaping that hand to the curve of Merlin’s cock, smirking at the feel of it hardening further, licking Merlin’s startled breath out of his mouth.

Merlin nodded, defiantly meeting Arthur’s challenging glare with a leer quirking his lips. 

“I could get used to this. You want the power back, you’ll have to win it. Do you think you could win my kingdom?”

“Oh, I think I could. With the right incentive.” 

“As if I am in any position to refuse you,” Merlin teased, whining as Arthur’s hand stilled its rubbing, missing the rough press of his trousers against cock.

“You could, you know that.”

Reaching down, Merlin linked his fingers with the king’s, his slimmer digits slotting between Arthur’s as he pressed their joined hands against his breeches, rubbing gentle circles over where the head of his cock was pressing into the fabric, a stain blooming beneath their hands.

“When have I ever refused you?” Merlin’s tone turned teasing, breathless as he feathered kisses along Arthur’s neck, tongue tracing the strong jaw, lips tingling from the rough stubble

“Every step of the way,” Arthur laughed, head tipping back to invite Merlin’s mouth, fingers fumbling with the strings keeping the other man’s breeches tied, keeping him from winning his prize.

“King’s that are never tried, get lazy. I’m keeping you fit.”

“You’re the one in the crown.” Arthur was breathless, shocked at how aroused he was at seeing Merlin in his crown, Merlin wearing the very personification of his power. If only he were sitting naked atop the throne as well, beckoning Arthur to kneel before him.

“So, try me.”

“I’m yours to command.”

And Merlin took control.

He felt his magic surge along with his heartbeat as he nodded once, fumbling with the laces of his tunic, tugging them free. Merlin shivered when Arthur dropped his grasp in order to help, patient for what was most likely the first time, one hand rucking the tunic up under Merlin’s armpits, thumb rubbing back and forth over a peaked nipple as the other hand slid up into Merlin’s hair, the soft hair against his palm at odds with the cool hardness of the metal.

Hot hands slipped up under Arthur’s tunic, nails scoring skin as Merlin’s touch slid around Arthur’s waist, flowing up his broad back to clutch at his shoulders, dragging him even closer to crush their bodies together tighter, fingers digging hard into bone and muscle.

Arthur had been surprised during their first time; the lean but muscular length of Merlin’s body not at all what he’d been expecting, hidden beneath the rough breeches and ill-fitting tunics. Now he relished in it, in how Merlin’s strength complimented his own, how Merlin was able to bully him in bed as much as elsewhere, how Merlin could take everything Arthur threw at him, and still demand more. And it was always a demand, Merlin never begged here. Never acted the servant or that he felt it a duty to be bedded by his master, as Arthur knew some maids within the castle felt. Merlin demanded his own respect and pleasure, taking it when Arthur toyed with him and withheld it. God how Arthur loved it when Merlin took what he wanted from his lover, held him down and took his pleasure.

The very thought of Arthur fucking him while he wore the crown had Merlin’s hole clenching in anticipation, hips thrusting to grind into the hard length of Arthur’s thigh. He groaned as Arthur’s hand dropped the tunic, large palm possessive in its grasp of his ass, fingers dipping into his cleft, massaging the seam of Merlin’s breeches against his hole, laughing into Merlin’s mouth as his lover’s kiss turned desperate and biting before he wrenched his head sideways and whined.

“Not very kingly,” Arthur teased as his fingers pressed against metal to stabilize the crown as it slipped from the sudden move, guiding Merlin’s head back to trail his teeth down that tempting throat, nosing aside red fabric to nip at the sharp collarbone. 

“Bed,” Merlin ordered as he gasped for breath, “bed now.”

“Yes Sire.” Arthur sucked Merlin’s lower lip as he pressed forward, guiding Merlin backwards to the bed, the world blurring as it shifted, the bed creaking as they fell upon it, the crown slipping onto the bedspread before Arthur fumbled for it and returned it to Merlin’s head.

It was harder to rid Merlin of his clothing lying down, but Arthur was practised, fingers tearing at laces, as Merlin tried to pull the tunic over his head with the crown still on before giving up, taking the crown off, tearing the shirt over his head, before firmly seating the crown back in place, rolling his eyes at Arthur’s aborted demand that he _‘put that back on right now- oh, good’._

“Just let me-” Merlin laughed as he tried to push his trousers down, hissing as Arthur’s artless tugging threatened damage to a part he was quite of fond of.

“Oi you prat, that’s attached!” Merlin batted away Arthur’s hands, capturing them and pressing them to Arthur’s own clothes.

“You do yours and I’ll do mine, alright?”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur plucked at his own clothes, throwing his tunic behind him, drawing a laugh from Merlin as he attacked his trousers with more enthusiasm than skill, tangling himself in the laces, boots still on, dirt smearing on the bedspread.

“You really are hopeless.” 

Merlin kicked himself free of his breeches, unseeing as they slid from the bed, taking pity on Arthur and unpicking the knots the prat had managed to put into the ties, taking the opportunity to curl his fingers around the concealed erection, watching Arthur’s eyes go wide and soft, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of Arthur’s mouth before he lifted the waistband away and over Arthur’s cock, both of them pushing the fabric down, Merlin filling his palms with Arthur’s glorious ass. It took some doing to get Arthur’s boots off, especially as neither seemed willing to stop touching each other, to fill their hands with soft skin, to draw shivers and moans from each other, not deal with the technicalities of boots, but the job was done, quickly if not with grace or dignity.

Turning back to Arthur, adjusting the crown that had slipped in their gymnastics, head bowed, glancing up at Arthur through his lashes, all coy seduction. Arthur’s cock stood proud as it strained towards his belly and Merlin’s hand, and the sorcerer couldn’t resist reaching out for it, thick and hot as he pumped the shaft, spreading the slick leaking from the slit around its considerable girth, twisting his wrist to palm over the head to hear Arthur’s moans of approval.

Arthur took Merlin’s face in his large hands, sword calluses rough on stubbled cheeks, and for all that gentleness, the kiss was an assault to the senses: his lips soft and pressure hard, agile tongue thrusting hard into Merlin’s mouth to explore, teasing at Merlin’s own to coax it to follow.  
Merlin’s mouth watered, feeling oddly empty, the weight of Arthur’s length not on his tongue, but no matter how me wished to take Arthur into the wet heat of his mouth and feel his lips stretch wide and sore, no doubt providing quite the show for Arthur, there was something he wanted more.

And he was king was he not?

“I want to ride you.”

Arthur shuffled up on his knees, shifting up the bed before rolling to his back, tugging Merlin after. Then it was the sweet kiss of skin on skin, Merlin’s thighs splitting wide astride Arthur’s hips, cockhead wet as it rubbed along the blond trail that ran down Arthur’s stomach.

Nipples hardened to points, flesh rosy in contrast to Merlin’s pale skin and Arthur curled up to mouth around one bud, hand gravitating to the other as Merlin moaned his desire, fingers plucking and rolling, tracking the pebbled flesh around and around until Arthur had his lover whining.  
Arching in pleasure, Merlin cupped Arthur’s skull, holding a more than willing Arthur to his chest, stroking his other hand down Arthur’s back, tracing random patterns into warm skin, fingertips bumping over the multitude of scars and healed hurts.

Arthur began to fumble with one hand, blindly searching beneath their pillows for the glass flask of oil they kept, frustrated whines escaping his throat and vibrating around Merlin’s nipple when his hand didn’t encounter the smooth jar.

“It’s no-its-” Merlin tried to help, bucking his hips into Arthur’s belly when his lover bit down on his nipple and sucked _hard_ , whining in his own frustration when the friction on his cock wasn’t enough, was a fleeting tease, hips humping forward to try and grind against any available surface, both hands holding Arthur’s head to him now.

The oil wasn’t under the pillow; it hadn’t been for several weeks. Hadn’t been needed in several weeks for one reason or another, but with Arthur rasping his teeth along Merlin’s sternum, the servant was having a tough time remembering what he was supposed to be thinking about, let alone where the flask was.

“Again,” he demanded, voice rough as gravel, cock throbbing with the need to touch himself, too desperate to keep Arthur’s mouth on him to risk dropping his hold to take himself in hand.

“Cabinet,” Merlin jerked his chin in the direction of the small cupboard by the bed, its top littered with the daily detritus of keeping a kingdom.  
With a dark chuckle at his lover’s writhing form- Merlin was so very responsive- Arthur switched sides, suckling on the neglected nub as he pinched at the other, pressing forward hard, bending his limber lover back so Arthur could _just_ reach the cabinet by the bed, knocking over countless vials and scrolls that he could care less about before he finally found what he sought, stretching out that little more and snatching the oil to him.

“Now, Arthur. Now, now, now, now,” Merlin ordered, chanting to the rhythm of Arthur’s draws on his nipple, the rasp of Arthur’s teeth against sensitised skin almost too good, too much. 

It always was.

Arthur kissed up Merlin’s chest, constraining hands falling away as Arthur found Merlin’s mouth, as behind the other man’s back he unstopped the flask, trickling cool oil across his fingers, fumbling the cork back into the bottle and dropping it by Merlin's knee.

“Your fingers, I want your fingers.”

Arthur tilted his head back to look Merlin in the eye, gaze drifting immediately down to those perfect lips.

“You want it, take it, m’lord," Arthur drawled, making no move to follow Merlin's command.

Narrowing his eyes, Merlin wasted no time roughly shoving one of Arthur’s hands into his lap, sighing in deep relief as the blond spread the oil over Merlin cock and balls, rolling the orbs in his palm as he massaged them, both hands stripping Merlin’s cock, touch too light to get him off but ramping his desire up further.

“Ah!” Merlin’s grip on Arthur’s wrist burned as fingernails dug in to the skin but Arthur never relented, massaging lower and lower still, down to the root of Merlin’s cock and farther back, insistent fingers pressing into that stretch of skin just behind Merlin’s sac, touch demanding as Arthur rubbed his knuckles up, smiling at Merlin’s cries.

Farther still and across that furl of muscle Arthur sought, slicking around and around, a hunter with prey.

“It’s been too long,” Merlin hissed as Arthur thrust two slick fingers into him and expressed surprise at the tightness he encountered, Merlin high on his knees, body trying to move away, to get away, his body tight and tense where it had been lax with pleasure before.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur slipped a finger free, gentling the movement of his hand, teasing the rim of Merlin’s hole, fingertip dipping inside every few heartbeats until it slid inside with little resistance, Merlin’s body swift to remember him, eager to open for him. 

They both knew the apology was for more than moving too quickly. It was for how busy they’d both been. How Arthur had to entertain yet another woman he had no intention of marrying. How they had to remain a secret. For being injured once again. 

It had all conspired to lead to a dry spell that was hitherto unheard of for the pair; the last time they’d been together like this, Arthur had rolled off Merlin and out of the bed moments after they’d found release, muttering about proclamations that needed to be drafted, speeches to be written, the trials of the men in the cells, the training of the new knights- the list had been endless. Nothing Merlin had said had calmed the king that night, his insecurities and worries exposed in the moonlight. Arthur was a warrior; a man of action and blood, not of scrolls and council meetings and all he heard when his advisors spoke was _‘you are not your father. You will never be your father.’_ The couple needed this, needed to let all the weight of the kingdom, the expectations of court and council, of the threats from within and without, fall away and once more be only Merlin and Arthur.

Or King Merlin, as the case may be.

“More oil,” Arthur demanded, chin jerking towards the flask, holding out one hand for Merlin to drizzle the slick onto, squinting at the little flask; they were going to need to get that refilled sooner rather than later. He had no intention of going so long without Merlin’s touch again.

“Uh, who is king here?” Merlin pointed to the gold on his head, tapping the metal with one fingertip, jerking when Arthur slid the second finger back inside him, scissoring them as he smirked at Merlin from beneath one raised brow.

“I’m sorry, Sire. I thought you wanted to get fucked. My mistake.” Arthur twisted his fingers as though to remove them, feet shifting on the bed as he pretended to try and get up.

“You’re threatening me with celibacy?” Merlin sounded outraged, though his smile gave him away, sloshing oil onto one hand, slipping it behind himself, and down, pushing at Arthur’s wrist to stuff his fingers back inside, and awkwardly sliding his own alongside his lover’s, knees locking tight Arthur's sides.

There was something almost painfully erotic about the feeling of his own and Arthur’s fingers moving together within him, slipping and sliding over each other as they eased the way for the men to join. It tugged at something deep in Merlin’s belly, and made his chest tighten with adoration for the man below him, for this strong and lethal man was so very gentle with Merlin, even when they were rough together, tugging and pulling and biting at each other, Arthur still took time and care preparing his lover. Even over Merlin’s protests, but today, today the young man was grateful for that tenderness that streaked through Arthur’s soul.

He’d be embarrassed to hear it, but Arthur poured out his heart when they were together like this, whispering worship into every inch of Merlin’s skin, into the angles of his knobbly knees and the sharp curve of his shoulder blades , lips and tongue pressing the words into his flesh, as though they might seep into Merlin’s blood, to be carried with him always, passing through his heart, time and again, with every strong thump of it, that too large heart that cared far too much, and received far too little in return. 

Pushing slowly, Arthur eased carefully into Merlin, hands gripping his ass to take his weight, easing the slide until Merlin was seated, Arthur bending his knees to plant his feet on the mattress to allow Merlin to lean back on his thighs, eyes closed as he sighed, fingers grasping and releasing, grasping and releasing on Arthur’s biceps as he relaxed into the invasion.

The penetration was like a brand, Arthur hot and hard within him, his cock splitting him open once more after so long, reducing Merlin’s entire world to the physical; the delicious slide of Arthur’s entrance, the scent of their loving thick in his nostrils, the beads of sweat that burst on his palm when he raked his hands down Arthur’s chest…all, all was heaven. This was what Merlin wanted; to feel those heavy thighs at his back, slim hips beneath him, that muscled belly rolling as it slid that sweet length into him, retreating, only to force its way back in, Merlin splitting his own thighs wider, sitting up straighter, anything to just get that gorgeous cock deeper.

It was pure domination, Merlin taking possession of Arthur, chasing his pleasure, legs straining to move faster, harder, more, more, more, hips a fluid roll, a dance that only they knew the steps to, their bodies falling into a familiar, intense rhythm . 

“Gods…” Arthur grit out as he watched, eyes hungry as his gaze roved over Merlin’s body; the tight planes of his stomach, lean muscles straining, up and over tight nipples, up to that beautiful face all angles and plump lips, up to the crown precariously balanced and down to Merlin’s sex, angry and red as it bobbed between them, dark against Merlin’s pale skin. 

Merlin’s right hand splayed on Arthur’s chest as he moved, sweaty hairs tickling his palm as his fingertips toyed over and over the thick, unyielding weal of scar tissue that marred one pectoral. The skin around the purple line was a reddish-brown from the burns, marks that all Gaius’ medical knowledge and Merlin’s healing abilities had been useless against.

So close. The flaming arrow had been so close to Arthur’s precious heart, the heat scorching the flesh before Merlin had doused it. The smell of burnt flesh had been repulsive, but the red hot arrowhead had likely saved Arthur’s life; it had helped cauterise the wound it had dug deep into Arthur’s chest. It had not been enough to stop the infection that had run rampant, the fever burning Arthur anew and for days Merlin had feared he’d still lose his lover.

Unbidden tears pricked at Merlin’s eyes, clinging to long lashes and Arthur’s hand came up to rest over Merlin’s, pressing it flat, eyes soft as he watched the moment when Merlin could feel his heart, beating fast and strong still.

As Arthur opened his mouth, Merlin shook his head; he spent too much time dwelling on what was past, on what he could not undo and he was sure to waste more time in the future, but right now? This time was too precious to waste.

Merlin’s expression was small and sad beneath the band of the crown, looking lost but never dropping his gaze from Arthur’s as he rocked his hips trying to return to the mindless bliss they’d found before, fingers covering Arthur’s mouth as his lover once more went to speak, circling his hips and grinding down harder, smile wide and real as Arthur’s eyes rolled back in his head and his thrusts became erratic.

He _could_ lose himself in this once more. The past was done, and Arthur was here with him, strong and vital. So very vital, he proved, as Arthur heaved beneath him, back bowing from the strain of lifting himself and Merlin from the bed, short, hard thrusts relentless as he gripped Merlin’s hips hard, pulling his willing lover down on to him, again and again, their skin slapping in vulgar kisses, slipping together in their mingled sweat, golden in the candlelight, crown glinting.

“Ye- just like Arthur- yes-” He knew he was babbling, but he didn’t care, Arthur hitting that spot within him again and again, pleasure singing up his spine, thighs burning as heat pooled in his belly.

Whining, Merlin ground down harder, swivelling his hips as he chased his pleasure, grunts forced from his throat as each thrust caught that spot again and again; Arthur’s accuracy on the battlefield was bested only by his unerring ability to find and ruthlessly exploit Merlin’s hot spots here in their bed. He wanted to take himself in hand, but needed both hands splayed on Arthur’s chest to keep his balance, Arthur’s thrusts relentless, hips liquid as he pounded up into his lover, the sound of skin meeting skin louder still than their grunts and desperate breaths.

As though reading Merlin’s mind, one of Arthur’s hands released its death grip on a jutting hip – Merlin knew he’d cherish the ring of bruises surely left behind, worth far more to him than any crown- and gripped the flushed cock that begged his attention and was rewarded by a glut of slick welling forth to ease the way.

“Oh gods, yes, touch me…perfect…Arthur, my Arthur.”

He was delirious with his desire, skin burning with the need to touch and please and come, his magic singing in his blood as it coursed through his body, wanting to get to Arthur, wanting to lick out and touch him, ensnare the king and form a glowing aura to shield and protect, to allow the blond to feel the pleasure Merlin did, so he be as crazed with pleasure as he. It wanted to shine forth from his very skin for the person for whom it had been created, wanted to hear his command and rush to comply.

Merlin held it in check, his magic fighting the leash. 

Merlin came all over Arthur’s hand, himself and Arthur’s lower belly, his release glistening in the dying light as he jerked and writhed through his completion. The sight caused Arthur’s breath to hitch, hands stilling and dropping away to grip Merlin’s ass, watching Merlin’s cock jerk and pulse, hips helplessly pumping as Merlin clenched around him; his lover’s full lips were bitten red, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with satisfaction and exhaustion before sliding closed. His unruly dark hair was plastered to his forehead by the crown that sat low over his brow, affording King Merlin a cheeky air.

Arthur desperately held on as Merlin’ body tightened, as the muscles beneath his hands flexed, and his lover seemed to glow in the candlelight, back bowed almost unnaturally, long throat so tempting and Arthur couldn’t help himself from sliding his hands down Merlin’s thighs to his knees, and back up, flowing up and over jutting hipbones, tracing the jet trail of hairs from groin to navel and up further still to pet that sweaty chest, palming pectorals, fingers moulding to collarbones and notch and swarming up that pale throat.

Beautiful. His lover was so beautiful, never more so than in this moment, just after he’d found his release, when all the cares and worries the young man seemed to carry fell away, in this moment when he was nothing but Arthur’s. 

He watched as Merlin came back to himself, until those eyes, still more black than blue slit open once more, focused far more than anyone had a right to after finding such bliss, one hand reaching up to push the crown further off his forehead, the cheeky bastard licking his dry lips unhurried and deliberate, before he bit down hard on the lush lower lip, letting it slip free slowly, teeth marks evident in the flesh, lip bruised and red.

“Come on, claim back your Kingdom, sire. Claim me.”

The command Merlin issued, echoed the desire coursing through Arthur’s veins, and he let go, his hips snapping up, up, up into Merlin’s lax form, fingers clawing into the flesh of Merlin’s ass, palms sliding on the slick skin as he tried to clutch his lover ever tighter, tried to get deeper, deep enough he’d never have to leave.

Arthur came in spasms, milked by Merlin’s channel, breath punched out as if by a lance’s blow, heat flooding in his belly and legs as his release coursed through him. He imagined his cock jerking within Merlin, great waves of him claiming the land of Merlin, claiming Merlin forever as his, for nobody else to take or touch. He felt as though it were him glowing now, as if he could feel Merlin’s sensations as well, impossible though it seemed; his hole felt used and stretched, his thighs burned, hands itching to touch and he imagined for a split second he could see himself from Merlin’s eyes as he shuddered. Arthur couldn’t remember his own name, but he could remember the only one that mattered as he jerked and shuddered and fell apart.

“Merlin…”

Falling forward, Merlin caught his weight on his hands by Arthur’s head, kissing Arthur through climax, little more than brushes of lips between heaving breaths, nips made at each other’s lips. 

Merlin collapsed, feeling as though all his strength had been waiting for his lover to come, his muscles suddenly leaden, arms shaking and legs numb as he lay with head bowed into Arthur’s chest, panting against the sweaty skin and mouthing at a nipple, tongue lazily swirling through crisp hairs. The crown finally surrendered the battle with gravity, slipping to the mattress and rolling over the edge, hitting the floor with a thump.

“Crap.” Merlin made an aborted attempt to reach over the side, Arthur wrapping tighter around his love to keep him where he was, smiling when Merlin relaxed once more, happy to nuzzle against Merlin’s face, something tight in his chest releasing at his lover’s contented sigh.

“Can’t move, sleeping here.” 

“I’ll get heavy,” Merlin retorted, though made no roll away.

“Can you lift your head up?”

“Ummm,” Merlin tried, sitting up an unimpressive few inches before crashing down to squash the air out of Arthur.

“Ha, heavy is the head that wears the crown,” Arthur teased, moving an arm that felt like rock to ruffle Merlin’s flattened hair.

“If I had a crown, you could marry me,” Merlin whispered into Arthur’s neck, soft lips brushing sensitive skin, knees gripping Arthur’s waist tighter.

“I’d marry you without one.”

Merlin brushed Arthur’s hair back from his forehead, thumb sweeping soft as a birds wing as he smoothed an eyebrow back into place before pressing his lips to the slight wrinkle on Arthur’s brow, the line that would soon once more become a crease as the king regained his crown and all its associated trials and responsibilities. But right now his expression and heart were open to Merlin as to nobody else. Even when they were outside this room, when layers of cloth and armour and position separated them, they had this. They had what Arthur would overthrow centuries of tradition for; love for happiness’ sake. 

Not for a treaty, not for merging kingdoms, not because the two parties were advantageous but because they couldn’t not love, because it was always there, pulsing beneath the surface- all they each wanted was for the other to be happy.

Arthur looked so young, almost like the boy he’d been when first they met, earnest determination radiating from his expression, the brilliant blue returning, hands soft on Merlin’s back as he held tight.

“I would, Merlin.”

“I know,” Merlin whispered, “I know.”

Their kisses were reverent now rather than desperate, gentle as a breeze rather than biting, their passions for each other banked once more.  
They both knew that it wouldn’t be for long. 

Merlin grunted as Arthur slipped from him, the air cool on his flesh without Arthur’s heat, both shamed by, and delighting in, the feel of Arthur’s release trickling forth, hole clenching desperately to keep it in, even a little longer. He whined when Arthur teased the well-used flesh, tracing the puffy rim before slipping one thick finger inside, his channel clenching down as Merlin sighed.

“You’re so soft and warm inside, so wet with me.” Arthur’s tone was awed, love dripping from his words, touch so gentle within Merlin, massaging around the nub that had his lover gurgling, knees tight on Arthur’s hips, body jerking as if unsure to move away or rock back, the pleasure too much, his every inch hypersensitive and satiated.

“So – so are y-you, after,” Merlin stuttered, as Arthur withdrew his finger, stroking his palm over Merlin’s ass, helping his lover to gingerly roll to his side, stretching out weary legs, laying his head next to Arthur’s, the couple nuzzling tiredly, exchanging soft kisses and softer words.

It was later, as Merlin settled beneath the heavy, warm weight of the blankets and the safety of Arthur’s hold that he felt soft kisses at his nape, gentle brushes of lips against still damp skin. Merlin could do little more than hum his happiness, snuggling deeper into the sinful pillow, muscles going lax with well-earned exhaustion, but he still heard Arthur’s words, the words his king whispered into the skin of his shoulder blade, the words that were the most treasonous of the night.

“You’re not a king, my love, but my Dragon-Lord. ”


End file.
